In the End
by Amelle Kyre
Summary: Jane and Gunther are being held captive, and all they want is to forget their troubles, at least for one night. But how did they reach this point recklessness and what about the tomorrow that may never arrive? JaneXGunther.
1. To Forget It All

Hiya! It's been awhile, but here it is something new!

Well technically it's old, as wrote this way before any of the chapters in my other story Random Notions, but I was trying to write all the things that happened before this and in the end I just decided that I wanted to put this up like this, it is Valentine's Day when I'm uploading this after all.

So please read it and let me know if you would want to see how they ended up here in the first place.

**Important information sorta**: Just a bit of set up as there's none like I said above, this is part of a somewhat larger story and would have ended up as later chapter, yet this is the first thing I wrote of the story. I wanted this to be one of those they are in a bad situation, last night on earth, sorta deals.

They were captured, and know this is the last day they will be in there stuck together, they don't know exactly what they are facing, but in this situation it isn't hard to guess.

They are older here, definitely not little kids anymore.

* * *

**To Forget It All**

"Tell me then," She can hear some desperation color her voice as she speaks. "Tell me how to make it stop. Help me stop thinking."

He just looks at her for a moment. His face is full of thought and something akin to nervousness, but its more than just nerves; although she can't quite decipher what it is. It reminds her of staring at the runes on Dragon's cave wall, knowing what some of them are but no matter how hard she tries, the others meaning is still evade her completely.

The thought of runes is a painful reminder of the current situation and its demolition of her life. The dragon runes... She had promised Dragon they would one day figure them out, together. She always thought there would be plenty of time to accomplish this. And now? It would just stay an empty promise never to be fulfilled along with any others she had made... Like the promise she'd made to her friends and family that she would return.

Gunther stands, staring blankly at the boarded up window on the far wall, most likely debating the matter in his thoughts. In the back of her mind there is the knowledge that this is, in a way, the abandoning of hope; there is no light after this dark. It is these types of thoughts that have permeated her head and which she wants, needs, to be rid of, because she has finally reached her limit for heartache and can take it no longer. Arriving at this conclusion has been difficult for her, but she has done it out of necessity. Whatever it is that he is struggling with however is entirely his own. She supposes that it is no easy matter for anyone, the realization of what could be your last night.

"Gunther." She sees the tension befall him as his name leaves her mouth and finds its way into his trance of thoughts. His pose ridged, and the stillness prevalent throughout the entirety of his broad-shouldered frame, are offers of proof that he is unsettled by the invitation. Perhaps he simply never imagined that she would reach this point of loss, and it has truly caught him off his guard, especially after she rejected him when he had made the offer.

"Jane are you sure about what you are asking?" He doesn't move even as he responds. Although his voice sounds almost normal, she knows at least this side of him well enough to know that it is far from. Because where before, his face might have been a puzzle, his voice is instantly recognizable, and at the moment its hiding plenty under its farce of normality.

"Yes." She puts all the truth into the word attempting to mask whatever pain it might be holding, keeping it short and willing him to look at her and see the determination on her face. For although she has yet to take her eyes off him, he is still facing the covered window, and from where she sits, at the very edge of the old bed, she can see only his profile.

He takes a deep breath, before walking over and crouching in front of her. Surely this is his answer, it makes her feel jumpy and jittery mixed with a strange sort of anxiousness that she wasn't expecting. His eyes never veer from hers as he places his hands over her own and slides them upwards along her arms, her shoulders. (She can feel herself shudder when his fingers finally make contact with the uncovered skin of her throat,) as he slides his hand up to the base of her jaw and into her hair. A second passes, then he brings his mouth to hers.

His mouth is soft against hers, where the first time he'd kissed her it had been frenzied and forceful. Intense, prevalent with the uncontrolled feeling that he had finally allowed himself that which he had been deprived. Measured and careful, it is as if he's now trying to restrain himself from going too far, despite the fact that she has asked him to do just the opposite. So she slides her own hands around his arms and back and deepens the kiss herself. His reaction is immediate, wrapping his arms around her, he lifts her lightly and brings her back down, this time _all_ the way down until she is lying on her back and he is holding himself over her.

He is so close, she has never been this close to him before, or anyone in truth. Much less as they are now, so much so that she can feel nervousness bubble into her where before there was only a gaping pit of hopelessness and dread. He on the other hand seems to have lost all uneasiness as his mouth travels along her jaw and neck, his hands along her sides. The feel of his body over hers is perhaps the most foreign and alarming to her, it is most strange that she can feel all the places where they come in contact, even lightly, even through their clothes, and the heat that seeps into her from him makes points of fire where his mouth touches her skin or where he holds his hands to her hips.

She wonders if she is just in shock from the abrupt switch of her emotions and the new and erratic feelings coursing throughout her body. It is like her body is in sharp contrast against itself flipping quickly and suddenly from winter to summer, blasts of cold to flashes of hot, panic and uneasiness to surprising bursts of heated pleasure. To where has her bravery vanished? She asked for this after all and was bold enough to incite it faster and now? All of if seems to have knotted into her stomach making it difficult to think or even breathe at this point.

It must be this, her stillness, that grabs Gunther's attention as he looks at her from his position over her. He takes ahold of her face with his hand stroking her cheek gently with his thumb, "Are you alright?" He asks her, his breath rapid, concern clearly displayed in both his voice and all over his face. Finding it a struggle to speak she opts for just nodding instead. The concern doesn't leave his face however, it only becomes more pronounced like the lines that have formed on his forehead atop his now knitted eyebrows. He sits back, and in the absence of his body there is a rush of noticeable cold until he pulls her up and they sit next to each other, feet over the right side of the bed. It strikingly odd to be sitting here with him now in this almost... _normal_ way.

"Jane," He speaks her name softly looking down from her face to where he is still holding one of her hands in his.

"I..." Finding her voice is still a veritable struggle but simpler than before, "I'm sorry, I am not sure what happened to me. It just-"

"Don't apologize Jane," He looks her in the eyes as he tells her this, his eyes are soft and his expression one that she is now realizing she had never known before or even suspected him of possessing. "You have no need to go along with this." Perhaps it is the newfound tenderness of his voice and demeanor, but the worry that had so effectively paralyzed her moments before has ceased to exist. It feels like it has vaporized in the calmness of this moment between them and when she releases her next breath it will have vacated her body completely.

"I am the one who asked you for this." She feels like herself again, as she speaks to him looking straight into the strange grayness that are his eyes, not since first arriving here has she felt this assured of her actions. "And I want this." She tells him this because it's true, it has turned into more now than just need to eclipse her dismay.

The way he looks at her now that she has truly decided is more than confirmation on his behalf, it makes her very aware of her decision and its implications, but this time she is ready to face it all. No thoughts of right or wrong, all that has left her, because in this moment it is only them. As it has been since they were first shut into this room, as it has been every time they have faced off in the arena- weapons in hand- each determined to be victorious. Although she had never thought about it before, years and years they have squared off against each other and still there has never been a dull moment. Perhaps they had never truly mastered working as team, but its so clear that when they are head to head, toe to toe that is when they are at their best. These thoughts swirl in her head as he leans in and kisses her and she kisses him back in equal fervor. After all, the greatest moments they have spent together, sparring or otherwise, is when they are on even-footing, as they are now.

* * *

Tell me what you think, I have a second half continuing this, (nothing graphic I promise) would you want to read it?

Was this any good?

Suggestions, comments, nit picks, random conversations, I would love to know any thoughts on this and of course whether you would like to see the second half of this, how they got here, or both.


	2. In the End

Hello all!

So I finally decided what's up with this story, this is the second half of the night.

After this we are going back to see how we got here.

So enjoy!

* * *

It feels different this time because she is just as in control as he. She no longer feels muddled or conflicted, it is all clear and every new feeling and motion is sharp and exciting for her.

Then there's Gunther, she is much more aware of him this time around. Of the way he holds her and runs his hands over her body, leaving a line of sparks wherever they have traveled. Of _his_ body as she runs her hands over him she can feel the tensing and swell of his arms and back as he moves, even through his clothes. She places her hands on his face where newly grown stubble has appeared over his chin and jaw in the time that they have been trapped together. She can feel it's roughness sharply against her palms and face.

She finds herself slightly fascinated with this since she has never seen him sport anything other than a clean shaven face. She runs her hands against his jaw- feeling the prickling tickle through her palms- and into his hair that slips soft and smoothly between her fingers. She had always wondered what it would feel like to run her hands through his hair. During days of training or otherwise her wayward thoughts would sometimes carry her there- his hair is so different from hers dark, silky, and cooperative- that she could only imagine what it might feel like in her hands. Only now it is more than imagination. She could know anything that she had ever wondered about him if only she has the will to explore it further. This realization is wonderful and elating it that makes her feel like she could touch the stars if she dared to reach that high. And this night is all recklessness there is no limit to how high she can go.

She runs her hands over his back again, feeling the dips and valleys that make him, only now she resents the feel of the fabric that slides roughly beneath her fingertips. Their clothes become increasingly constricting as the heat between them builds along with the intensity and fervor of their movements. Gunther's movements are more erratic, and her own thoughts more scattered.

She lets her body move at its own will responding to Gunther on pure instinct. She finds her hands clenching suddenly into the fabric of his tunic as his own hand movements cause her to gasp and a moan escapes through her mouth. Her boldness has grown along with their passion and her need. She tugs at his tunic needing to be rid of the layers of fabric between them, Gunther quickly realizing what she wants helps her remove it, deftly pulling it up and over his head, he tosses it aside. He is corded muscle all over, evidence of the extensive training they have both endured under the hands of the knights and the large amount of menial labor he is tasked by his father. She reaches for him, running her hands against his chest. His muscles are firm and his skin is soft and smooth against hers.

She lifts herself lightly as he pulls her own shirt up and over her head. Embarrassment, forgotten a few seconds before is newly found as he looks at her. His eyes are blown wide and wild they just look at each other, the dim light leaves his eyes looking completely black like their color has leaked completely, lost in the moment.

He lowers his mouth to her skin making her forget everything, why they have been in this room for so long, why this was supposed to be a sad night, and even her name takes a few moments to rise to the surface. In their new frenzied rhythm the rest of the clothes come of quickly, no more time to stop and think about each moment. Thoughts and decisions are overtaken by passion, need, and the heat that passes between. Skin against skin, their bodies entwined, she can now more fully appreciate the contrast of her rather pale skin against the deeper and darker tone of his, even in the dim bit of light that has managed to filter into the room find its way to them highlighting all their differences and similarities.

Her heart beats loud and erratically and she can feel his do the same with his chest against hers and his breathing at her ear. And it is only them now, truly just them alone. For everything else in the world has receded just to just this moment between Gunther and her. The world has slowed to a crawl, time no longer exists. His hands and lips run now uninhibited across her body leaving heat and pleasure in their wake, and she finds that she can do the same; learn all of him by touch.

He holds her face with his hand and her gaze with his eyes, understanding passing between them. With his eyes so close and his body flush against hers it is difficult to believe that they can be closer still; yet this the moment.

It all becomes very real in this moment, the haze and levity of thought are lifted and it all becomes sharp and rich with detail. There is a hollow feeling of in the middle of her chest of mixed fear and excitement that is hard to take in with all the other emotions and sensations running across her body. She places her hand at the back of his neck to anchor herself, realizing as she does that she is trembling. She looks up over his shoulder, the ceiling is vivid and clear she can make out all the notches and grooves in the wooden beams. She grits her teeth as pain is added to the roster of sensations, and world becomes blurry as tears spring in her eyes and she grips tightly to his back. Gunther buries his face in the crook of her neck, lips to her skin, and whispers softly in her ear while the pain volleys back and forth changing into something more. Something richer and fuller.

He lifts himself slightly, his face over hers, his breath coming in short spurts that mirror her own shallow breathing. He holds her face once more, his thumbs wiping away any stray tears, his mouth finding hers once again this time with a deeper pressure and the taste of salt mixed in.

It's all new in intensity, everything she felt before reaching new levels; new heights that she was never aware of existing. As if there is no limit, no boundary and although it takes a bit of fumbling to find their rhythm, together, everything becomes devastatingly unfocused interspersed with random moments of shocking clarity, all her senses seems to mash together. Sight, sound, taste, smell, and touch all turning into the same sensation, into the same pulse.

Their pulse.

Their movement, their breathing.

New heights, but not as boundless as they seem, she hits first. Hard, the world shattering apart in full force, coming apart in fractures, everything that holds her together and makes her, its like she's been unraveled. But she still breaths, she is still here, and so is Gunther who reaches his own height and grips her close while his body tenses and he trembles in her arms.

Their breath is visible in the air, each puff of breath they take mingling together in the air between them, and she knows it must be a cold night even if she doesn't feel it. Tonight she is all heat, her body still vibrating with it, still singing and humming with it. Jane knows that she won't feel that cold, or the cold of things to come, not tonight.

Tonight it is just her and Gunther, all else is forgotten.

* * *

Thanks so much for all the Favorites and follows.

Reviews are greatly appreciated! It really helps to know what you guys Think!

See you next Thursdays, I'll probably be updating this story. I'm trying to update at least one of my stories every week.

...


	3. Captured

**Several Days Before**

Dragging them forward, Jane feels the impact but none of the pain, as they are both roughly pushed down into the kneeling position. Her heart is hammering so loudly in her chest that she is unsure what they are saying around her and her shoulders ache from her arms being pulled behind her. A man taller than the ones holding her and Gunther down but, slighter in build, steps up and pulls the helmet off Gunther. His dark hair sticks out in manner that would be almost silly if the situation were not so dire. He speaks to him and Jane finds that she is still unable to hear over the pounding in her ears and whatever the man asks, Gunther doesn't answer and is rewarded with a resounding blow across the face that makes him fall sideways. Jane feels the fear condensed in her stomach spike threefold at the sight of his blood on the hard packed earth. In her attempts to see if Gunther is okay, Jane doesn't notice the man until he blocks the sunlight as he stands over her.

She looks up at him for a moment seeing nothing but his shadow in the illumination of the sun at his back. She feels something hot and shallow slide down her throat, then her mouth goes dry as the details become clear. His hair is cropped short and neat and he doesn't wear a look of satisfaction or amusement like those of their captors, but the solemn and steely look of determination of someone who is not to be toyed with. He reaches down and roughly yanks the helmet off Jane's head. Jane keeps her face down, feeling the wind whip her hair about and studying the crisp dirt and rocks at his feet as if she was meant to memorize them for a test, knowing that this the moment of no return; as soon as they look at her face they will know.

The moment stretches out longer than it should, the voice of the man asking her questions that she will not answer echoing strangely around her.

The pull is hard and sudden. "The commander is talking to you." The man behind her has crouched down, his hand fisted in her hair forcing her to face up. She fights the cry of pain by mashing her teeth together, and watching the looks of comprehension that spread across their faces as they look down at hers. The half-smile that spreads across the commander's face leaves Jane feeling like someone has hollowed out her insides, even with everything that has happened it is not until this the moment that the panic starts to set in. She looks down again as soon as she is allowed unable to hold his gaze, she knows that the future is grim for her and Gunther, but hers will be especially heinous. There is no doubt now, not with the laughter and calls that can be heard around all around her, all men.

"Take them in, I am sure he will be very pleased to meet our captives."

* * *

_Hey guys, _

_I know this is short but I just wanted to set up the rest of this and this was always supposed to be a separate chapter in mind anyway, and I didn't have time to write the next chapter and mash it with this one. Plus one more Thursday that I actually post! _

_I hope I can do so again next Thursday, but that is assuming life doesn't get in the way once again, and that might be foolish. So we shall see._

_Thanks guys for your reviews and messages. Every single one of them means very much to me. I go back and reread them because it is wonderful to know what you guys think of my story._

_Please let me know what you think! _

_Thank you for reading!_


	4. Meet the General

It is a castle, that much is clear to Jane as they are pushed roughly forward through what appears to be a militarized central area and into what similarly appears to be a great hall. Truthfully she does not take in much more detail than that. Feeling like her heartbeat echoes throughout her body, her mind seems to be spinning rapidly with thoughts too awful to consider and others too hopeful to entertain. They are surrounded, that much is completely and utterly clear, even as she looks straight ahead trying to avoid the sight of so many men and all the awful calling they do as they walk by. They took their armor, but other than the hit they dealt Gunther earlier when he wouldn't answer their questions, they have refrained from hurting them in any substantial way. So far at least.

Inside the hall it is much quieter, not as many people reside inside, perhaps fifteen and not common soldiers either. No one sits on the throne at the far end, Jane looks around briefly noting that banners and portraits have been ripped down, a few tatters still clinging rebelliously to the walls. A castle taken by the enemy.

They are stopped three quarters of the way into the hall, from the group of people to their left emerges a man not much taller than her or Gunther, his hair completely silver as if with age, he does not look a day older day than Sir Ivon. He walks casually up to them, his hands clasped behind his back. His clothes are fine armor but nothing too elaborate or ostentatious.

"Well, well." He stands directly in front of her as he speaks, his tone far to casual for the situation, and his accent foreign but difficult to place. "What have we here, is this truly her?" His eyes take her in from feet to head, while Jane resists the urge to scream. What in the world do they want from her? She keeps quiet, as there is no good answer when it comes to such a question. "Yes, I dare say she is." His voice takes on a tone of boredom as he seemingly dismisses her, and moves to stand in front of Gunther taking him in the same way he did with her.

Murmuring breaks around those gathered around passing around the hall like waves, she can hear nothing discernible amidst their whispers. Fear sits uncomfortably hot in her stomach, she can taste that fear in her mouth, it swirls around with its metallic twang not all that different from the taste of blood.

Gunther looks just as frightened as she feels, although he tries to mask it, his jaw is clamped so tight it looks painful, yet she can see it in his eyes the same way it must be displayed in her own. "You look familiar," The man states, sounding as equally as intrigued as he is annoyed. "Now why might that be?" He grabs Gunther from the chin the way one might do with a child, and although he resists at first, the man clamps his hand down until it looks painful. Gunther still has some blood plastered to his chin from the blow he received earlier, she can see it clearly as the man moves his face side to side trying to identify him. "Well, this going to be bothersome." The man says a moment later, finally releasing Gunther's face from his grip, seemingly abandoning the endeavor of recognizing him. Gunther manages to hold his ground and he stares daggers at the mans receding back that it if looks could cut flesh and bone the encampment they are now in, would be left leaderless.

"They have exhausted their utility here. Take them." Her heart skips a beat as the man's voice drifts behind him and he gets back to the whichever matter is more important than her and Gunther. It is of no sense that they would bring them here to face their leader. He asked no direct questions, there was absolutely nothing gained, and yet they had to have taken them for a reason. Their abduction wasn't random, when they arrived at their campsite they took no one and nothing else.

A horrid sense of wrongness seizes her insides, she can keep quiet no more. She turns in the grasp of the Commander as he is directing her out and asks a question of her own and she speaks it loudly in the direction of the man in charge. "Where are they taking us?" And as the question comes out it lets loose all the others she had swallowed down. "Why are we here? What do you want from us?" She struggles only minimally with the commander who doesn't seem to be putting much effort into holding her back, and she begins to stride back toward the leader, her hands still tied at the wrists behind her back as she continues with her questions. The silver-haired man only stares at her his eyebrows slightly raised, that eternal curiosity that must be the reason he looks so young, the only discernible emotion on his face. "Who are you?" She finally stops all of three feet away from the man holding her prisoner. "Why did you take us if you wanted nothing from us?"

"I never said I wanted nothing from you, I simply have all that I need." He pauses then, his understanding tone makes her want to jump at him and inflict him with pain, which she could do because no one has stopped her so far and she is so close. She is just considering whether it is worth the moment of satisfaction and if she might be able to work it to her advantage, when... "Now Jane, that really would not be in your favor." He speaks. That stops her dead in her tracks. A small inhalation of breath is audible behind her -which perfectly sums up her feelings- and of who is surely Gunther, the only other person in this place who would be surprised at this development.

He knows her name, even though her and Gunther have kept quiet the entire time. It takes her breath away as her mind wraps around exactly what his means and while she stands there hands still tied behind her back a few feet from this man who has taken her. She glares at him, not having much else to do and certainly not ready to give herself over to her rash impulses. She needs to hold her ground and hope that she might get information from the man in front of her, as unlikely as that seems. He will not answer anything she asks, it is of no matter to do so, and her little outburst is not to her favor. She can see it in his eyes the way they go from curiosity to indifference with a spark, of a simple spark of malice and... Disappointment?

The seconds pass as he looks at her with his misgiving eyes, she is jolted from the stare as someone grabs her by her arms, pulling her back towards Gunther, unanswered questions, and bleak things to come.

"Move it." It is the Commander, he had brought her in like a fisherman displaying his prized catch and now he was ready to hull her out with the same sickening relish. It takes all her strength to not fight back, to not resist as he begins to maneuver her towards the exit, still there is a tight twist in her gut that she cannot just stand there and take it, she simply cannot be calm a herded sheep following whatever these people desire.

"No," She whispers it at first, but it is not enough. "No," This was just too much and. "NO." This time she holds her ground stopping where she stands halfway out the hall to what she can only perceive at this point as her doom. If he wants something from her he better hope to get it now because she is done being cooperative. Her and the Commander struggle slightly as he tries to push her forward, she stumbles but it is not over; she is going to take full advantage of this situation now. She holds her place once again as he moves in behind her pushing with his entire body and she half stumbles against him again, reaching... then she steadies herself twisting in the same breath and managing once again to be free of him, only this time with the smooth handle of the knife- previously held at his waist- in her hand.

There is murder in his eyes as he looks at her, as she had thought before, he really is not to be toyed with. No one else even comes close, she is _his_ prize, they'd be fools to get involved. _She_ is not playing of course, for her this life and death, or worse. He doesn't realize that she has taken the knife yet, with her hands still tied behind her back he cannot see. She works the knife furiously and clumsily in her haste. She takes slow steps backwards towards the empty wall near her, to give herself more time, trying to free her hands as he slowly stalks toward her, a stream of profanities aimed at her muttered quietly as he approaches. Finally the rope goes down, she might have nicked her wrist but her hands are once again a good asset. She lets him get closer now keeping her hands steady behind her back. She feels the bright alertness of a fight coming. She wants to lash out or run but she instead holds until he is close.

When he is at the right distance, practically on top of her, she whips her hand around just under her his chin. The blade poised dangerously close to his vital and defenseless throat. The blade is bigger that she thought, it was no wonder she had cut herself. Less of a knife and more of a dagger. Her blood is plastered all around her wrist. It travels slowly down her arm to her elbow and drops onto her captors foot, while they stare each other down, she doesn't feel the pain.


	5. For a Maiden

_I know, its been awhile._

_So lets not get into that here and go straight to the story._

* * *

"Don't move." Her voice is calm.

The Commander snarls at her, but makes no other movements. Sweat drips from his temple, clearly not as assured of himself now. She takes a moment to truly access her situation. She keeps her focus on the man at the edge of her blade ready to move at any indication of trouble, and looks around as quickly as possible not looking too long in any direction. People around her have noticed, but there is not much they can do at the moment without their comrade getting hurt, or worse, in the process. No, currently her most immediate danger is the man in front of her. She can see him already calculating his options in his mind.

"Hands behind your back," She orders. He obeys reluctantly and she begins guiding him towards the wall beside him, moving slowly. "Now against the wall." She hates to turn her back to the others in the hall, but for the moment they are less important. She pushes the dagger, sharp and polished, close, pressing against his adam's apple, practically digging into his neck until he has no option and he is firmly pressed back against the wall looking highly uncomfortable.

With his hands trapped behind his back, his motion is severely limited, any action would be clunky. There is little possibility for him to wrestle the knife away and any movement forward to attack or bring his arms out, would be fatal for keeps her arm steady but turns the rest of her body to face the crowd. A couple of guards are close, their weapons are drawn but they keep their distance at a loss of what to do when their superior is being held hostage. The others are silent and she stares them down while her mind races as she tries for her next move.

She is, clearly, trapped but she knew that already. She needs to use this situation to buy not only her freedom but Gunther's as well.

Gunther...

She searches quickly for him but does not manage to spot him before the leader with the silver hair parts his way through the crowd, she makes out the word general from amidst the others in the hall it follows him as he steps forward and stops directly in front of her, but holding his distance. He looks unconcerned, just curious like before.

"Step closer and he dies." Jane says out loud, making her intentions clear even though she knows he was not planing on getting near.

"Oh, I have no doubt." He responds calmly. Pacing where he is but not actually coming closer. "But look around." He gestures at the people surrounding them, his tone uncomfortably reminding her of Sir Theodore when he is teaching her a lesson and waiting for Jane to figure out her mistake. "I have many soldiers and allies. I value all of them, I loathe to lose even one." He finally stops moving to bore his piercing gaze into hers. "You, however, only have one." He finally breaks her gaze and glances almost casually to the side.

Something in her middle seems to stop her breathing as she looks where he indicated, expecting it, but she still feels the effect of the shock. From the mark on his eyebrow and the fact that the three men flanking him also bear some injuries, it is clear that a scuffle had broken out among them. Gunther has a snarl on his face, he is clearly unhappy that whatever struggle he had with his guards did not go his way.

She had managed to get a hostage, but they had gotten the better of Gunther. Of course he had been more heavily guarded, they had not taken so much precaution with Jane. Not seeing her as a threat. It was the same reason they had allowed her within such close proximity of their General without, it seemed, a care.

They hold him at a similar fate as the man at the edge of her own dagger. The blade at Gunther's throat is so close that when he swallows a thin line of red can be seen. His eyes are wild she has no idea what they hold. He can't speak, its all up to her. This is her move.

"Lower the knife." She blurts out without preamble, the tremble in her voice clearly audible even to herself. She digs the dagger she holds just a bit closer to her hostage finding that at least her hand remains steady. "He is a Commander. More important." She wasn't about to loose Gunther, but they couldn't afford to loose a commander, that Jane had noticed by the way he was treated by the others, was of such high rank.

"Well, I see that your decision has indeed been made." The General sighs, and then calls, in that simple and dismissive tone that he seems to use for everything. "Kill him."

"NO!" Jane shouts, her vision going slightly red. The General holds up the his palm at her shout, the knife in the guards hand stops mid-swing, no more than a half inch from Gunther's exposed neck, his eyes wild. She feels the relief weigh heavily in her chest as they lower the knife.

The General turns his steely gaze towards Jane and gives her an expectant look. She has no choice, whether worse things are in store for them she won't be the one to personally drive the knife to end Gunther's life. She unclamps her hand from around the dagger, her fingers lift from it stiff and shaky, as her no-longer-hostage jumps, moving his feet quickly to avoid it, and it clatters to the ground between them; it feels to her like letting it go after hours not a few unfortunate minutes.

Once she is disarmed the Commander, shoves her hard away from him and she goes sprawling, hard enough that she knows several places should ache. She sets her palms against the smooth ground beneath her, she still feels the distant numbness even as he walks toward her a kick aimed right at her middle.

"NOT," The General's voice is loud for a moment and then down to normal in the next instant. "Here." He puts a steadying hand on his subordinate's shoulder. The Commander bristles and Jane can tell from her vantage point on the floor that although the gesture appears friendly it is anything but. The General has him in an iron clamp, he leans closer to whisper in the black haired man's ear but Jane is still close enough that she can hear. "You have done well, you did as I asked." He motions at some of the others and they quickly rush over to her roughly pulling her to her feet. They don't bother tying her hands this time, simply one man holds each side of her. The pain is beginning to return to her body, she can feel a dull throb growing more persistent at her wrist. "You shall be rewarded." He tries to turn them, clearly dismissing his prisoners as the men move her towards the hall exit once more.

"Let me have her, that is all the reward I require." The Commander's words are loud none of the General's quiet and privacy to them.

Everything seems to stop, not just because her entourage has indeed stopped in their tracks. But because the words are the feeling of tumbling out of the sky, without the beneath of a dragon. Any moment now she will hit the ground.

"I will return her to you, none too much the worse for wear." The Commander states, his calm plea for her is sickening. "And I promise, I will get all the information you require from her." The numbness seems to be taking over again at the words, the eagerness of them spreads over her and the room, which itself seems to be holding its breath in anticipation of the answer.

The General sighs. "Very well, take her. The boy can go to my place. I want this over with quickly it is already more trouble than it is worth-"

"NO." It takes her a moment to realize it is Gunther who cried out. As her eyes find him some part of Jane's mind hinges on the random fact that he is held is still being kept in place by three guards while she, who held one of their superiors at knife-point, not but a few minutes before, is only being detained by two. "Take me. She's only going to resist and make things difficult but I will tell you whatever you want."

"What?" Hurt colors her voice in an odd way. "No! You cannot tell them anything!" She yells in his direction. He doesn't so much as look at her, it is as if she hasn't spoken at all.

The General turns to Gunther, looking highly amused, "Very well, but I do suppose this comes with some sort of condition." He posses this statement waiting with that same amused expression. The Commander just has a rather sour look in his eyes as Gunther musses his plans.

Gunther stands up straighter which produces a strange effect coupled with the three guards holding on to him. The somewhat bored looking expression covering his features, the same one he that he gets when he is too upset even for words. "Let her be." He usually walks away from her at that point and it somewhat frightening to hear him speak, his voice completely devoid of feeling. His father would be proud, it is the perfect tone for negotiating a deal; no infliction one way or another. His words clipped and deliberate. "Let her go, and I will tell you all you wish." Then almost as an after thought, "She is of no use."

"I could think of a few good uses." The guard to her right whispers in her ear, he stokes her hair, and Jane feels the sudden urge to vomit, but she keeps it down instead jamming the heel of her boot into the top of his. He hisses in pain, his grip of her arm going painfully strong. "You little-"

"You are willing to give me everything I want then..." The General narrows his eyes, leaving the Commander's side and moving towards Gunther with a wave of his hand the guards release him, and the two stand face to face.

Gunther doesn't react, his face still expressionless. "Yes." He answers in that same toneless tone. His fingers twitch however as if he is actively working to keep himself from squeezing them into fists.

"I'll give you this," The General says, "You are rather entertaining." He folds his arms in front of him. "I would ask you for your name."

"So you agree to let her go?" She can hear some of the lithe in his voice this time, his mask not quite so perfect.

"Name." This isn't an entreaty, it is an order, palpable in the air, and heavy. Gunther swallows, his mask gaining more chips his eyes finally flicking to hers, if only for a second.

_Lie!_ She tries to tell him, she repeats it over and over in her head praying that he will somehow be able ascertain this from her face alone. _Lie, lie, dear god please just say any other name._ She is not sure what the man could possibly gain from the knowledge but she knows it cannot be good. How could he have known his face? Why?

Despite his build and size, Gunther suddenly looks small. Young and defenseless as the silence grows thick the same way it did when she was the one who had to make her decision. The General lifts his eyebrows at Gunther as the silence becomes almost awkward, and deliberately turns his attention towards Jane instead.

That seems to finally bolt Gunther into movement. "Gunther." He says simply.

No... Jane closes her eyes in defeat.

With the General facing her Jane gets a perfectly clear view of the way his eyes flash, the sudden and clear realization on his face. What this means she cannot even begin to fathom, but it can in no capacity be good.

"My, my." The general wears a satisfied look as he speaks. It is as if all the puzzle pieces have finally fallen into place, which, Jane supposes, they must have. "Gunther." His says the name as if he can taste in his mouth. It's quite revolting.

Gunther's mask is almost completely gone, he looks worried and defiant, blood still smeared on his bruised face. The General turns back towards him the amusement much more genuine.

"Tell me," The amount of relish in which he speaks and they way he looks at Gunther up and down as if seeing him in a new light is nothing short of sickening. "What are you willing to do for her?" He stands much closer to Gunther, who watches him his resolve deteriorating as he searches for an answer, but the General doesn't wait for one. "Are you willingly to fight for her?"

Gunther's brow furrows, but he keeps quiet. He seems to have finally realized the same thing that she had, that he and by effect her, are just being circled around. They are nothing short of pray, and it seems that the General has a penchant of playing with his meals.

"I'll make a deal with you," The General says, as if a brilliant idea, he is much too happy for Jane's liking. The dread in her stomach has come to surpass the pain and throbbing at her wrist. "Let us test your fighting prowess. A duel, for a maiden seems poetic. It's simple really, win and you can keep her by your side. Lose and well, we will go back to our original plans, minus you of course."

"I will fight for myself." Jane raises her voice so that she can be heard clearly as she speaks. Snickers ripple across the hall, and she finds her overwhelming feeling of dread momentarily eclipsed with annoyance. That is until she looks in the Commander's direction. He doesn't smile or laugh, his face is blank. Yet his eyes, dark and cruel bore into her, hate clearly reflected in them. She cannot let herself fall into the dark void that he is, she wants a sword in her hand and an option to win even if it is a paper thin victory, she will take it over the alternative.

"You fighting for yourself would defeat the entire purpose." The General's disapproving voice pulls her back to the problem at hand, she looks towards him in time to catch the particular gesture with his hand as his guards her go.

She stands where she is, surprised at being let go after the earlier transpired events. That doesn't stop her from attempting to ask a question however. "What exactly is the purpose-"

"I'll do it." She is cut off mid-sentence by Gunther's acceptance. She looks at him in disbelief, He has chin up in determination. She wants to argue this should be her fight, but..

"Excellent" The General. Looks thoroughly satisfied.

"What about him? What will happen to him if he wins?" Jane cannot believe any of this. She walks closer to them both. The blood in her body pulses slowly and she can feel the throb at her wrist becoming insistant once again.

"Jane-" Gunther begins but is caught off in the same manner as he had with her, and with just as much regard; none at all.

"His fate is the same," The General addresses her. "Either way, he is fighting for you not himself." He looks at her not so satisfied now, more hungry, wolfish really. "That. Is the purpose."

"Very well, then I will fight for him." Laughter rolls around the room once again. She is getting extremely tired of these people. If she can just get a sword in her hand again... Especially if its _her _sword...

"Well, well." He says glancing between them. "I once again don't doubt that you would." He whispers quietly to her, his voice holds a conspiratorial tone along with a smile as if they are sharing a secret. Out loud he says only, "Again, defeats the purpose. But since you are so instant on the matter." He turns to Gunther this time. "You can fight two. One too keep her safe, and the other for your own good. So will you fight or just come with me now?"

"Gunther..." She reaches her hand toward him, he is but an arms length away. This is horrid but the other option isn't much better. Either way.. "I don't-"

"I accept." He speaks to the General, quickly stepping out of her reach.

The General's relish is apparent. "Very well," And then as a clear afterthought and far too full of amusement to be entirely sincere. "Luck to you."

...

Everyone, as per the General's orders heads towards the wide double doors at the end of the hall. They don't restrain her or Gunther, they just move them forward keeping them boxed in with guards, and herding them out with the general movement of the crowd.

Jane moves quickly leveling with Gunther and grabbing him by the arm as they walk out."Don't do it, there is no point for it." She whispers. "We will not gain anything from this, even if you win we will be stuck here. And if you don't..." She cannot bring herself to say it.

"Then, it amounts to much the same Jane," He grips his hand over where she holds his arm, as they walk steadily forward with the crowd. "It was to happen sooner or later. It is not much of a choice, I would rather have a sword in my hand." The acceptance in his voice chills her thoroughly, especially as the memory of the knife aimed at his throat flashes in her head.

He drops his hand and she does as well as they seem to have stopped. "And I would rather not be entertainment."

"Neither would I..." He says in resignation, finally turning to look at her. His eyes sad and haunting its a look she will never forget as long as she lives. Whether her life is short or long. "If I don't..." He swallows. "I-I... apologize if I fail."

"Gunther..." Feelings of all sort lodge in her throat and she can say nothing else.

* * *

_Thank you for reading and putting up with my long absence._

_I'm hoping to be back with a vengeance rather than a whimper but that remains to be seen so I shall make no promises._

_I will tell you however that I do work on these I love the fanfics, and I take to heart all the lovely things that you guys have to say about them. I just happen to work out of order so I'm not always doing things that you will see right away and big part of that is making it all feel cohesive which is difficult, but I will keep trying. also reading slump this year hit me like a ton of, well unread books sitting on my shelf. And it is always harder for me to write when I'm not reading._

_But its coming along._

_And thank you for coming along on this journey. You guys make it all worthwhile._

_Let me know what you think, _

_and of course I'm always open to suggestions and ideas :)_


	6. A Fighting Chance

_This chapter is formally dedicated to Ms. Kyra4_

_For being absolutely wonderful (and rather sneaky lol) She left me two long and lovely reviews for the last chapter. _

_I hope you guys enjoy._

* * *

Gunther does not hear the general turmoil outside of the one in his head. Its all a blur, the announcement of the fight, the cheer of the crowd at the thought of his death. Being pulled away from Jane to stand next to General as he speaks in a far too chipper tone. Even the picking of his opponents does not steal his attention entirely.

The General makes a big show of picking his two men. The first one is one of the men that was guarding Jane. Leaving her with one that sidles up behind her taking hold of her once more. Hate burns in the pit of his stomach, he hates them all and this awful situation. He tries to concentrate and calm himself as the General picks the next fighter from the throng of soldiers among them.

He is given a sword, just a standard blade. The balance is not so foreign that he would be at a disadvantage because it, thankfully. They don't give him a shield, its blades only. And that is all, he pushed to the middle of the "arena" which is just a large and dense circle made up of rowdy soldiers who would love nothing more than his bloody defeat. He looks towards his two opponents, he should have been trying to get their measure but it hardly matters now. There is no time, and perhaps there will never be any for him again. He swallows those thoughts and focuses on what is in front of him instead. They are handed their own swords, standard like his he notes, at least no advantage there beyond being two against his one. The General speaks quietly to them, he cannot hear over the crowd, and doubts that even those near him can. He wonders what instructions he is giving them, to make him suffer? To make good show? To end it quickly? Gunther thinks for a moment of Jane somewhere behind him in the crowd, what this fight means for both them, he cannot dwell there however he needs to focus. Then they walk into the circle and the fight has begun.

He takes a deep breath staring down both opponents. His heartbeat is distracting and ever present he can feel it even in his palm as he readjusts his hold of the sword, its relentless taboo beating against the hilt as it sits in his hand, he grips it tighter. Trying to calm himself as the others raise their own weapons. He takes a breath. They are bigger than him and fighting two on one isn't something he has ever really had a chance to practice. He steadies his breathing once more as he rids himself of the noises around him focusing on both the men in front of him.

Movement on the left, he lifts his arm and the clang of metal is satisfying in an odd way he can feel it reverberate within him as his sword clashes with his opponents stopping the blow and pushing him away at the same time swinging back to block the blow of the second man which was aimed right at his face and he narrowly avoids by stepping backwards and swinging at the same time.

He tries to make sure to keep both in front of him, it means his life after all. All it would take is one distraction, if one gets behind, he would be easy pray.

They are pushing him hard, he hardly has a chance to catch his breath. Although Gunther knows he can keep this up for a good while, a great fear and doubt is starting to settle seriously within him. He is on the defensive, with them both attacking in rapid succession. Enemy number one, block, enemy number two, block, enemy number one, block... and so on and so forth, giving him no time to even attempt a returning blow. This, as it is going, will not end well. He needs a strategy, a plan, and copious amounts of good luck. Having already been captured and tossed into this wholly unfair battle for his life he doesn't set a lot of stock on the last one.

The blade slices through the air on his left and he cannot stop it. Pain blooms on his left arm, he lets out a cry of initial shock, but pain itself is still distant and waiting. He counters, his own blade knocking the offending blade off before it can bite any deeper into his arm. Warmth and wetness, lets him know that he is bleeding, but not how deep or how much blood he is losing; it certainly feels like a great amount. He cannot afford to dwell on that now, another distraction could cost him far more than a trickle of blood.

The barrage of assaults against him continues, he blocks them all as best he can, finally getting in an offensive blow only to be rewarded by a narrow slice against his abdomen by his other opponent.

The fight starts to become frighteningly one sided, as the men begin circling him on opposite directions. He cannot fight both at once like this he swallows taking steps back himself, appreciating this small reprieve from the constant barrage to assess the situation. If they attacked now on on either side would have to pay attention to one leaving him wide open for the other to take full advantage. He could attack himself, but unless he took his first opponent down and completely out before the other had time to catch up he would be in the same vulnerable position.

They are still slowly circling him, waiting to get into position, sneers on their face, they had been toying with him before he guesses, and they are finally ready to end it. Gunther makes it slightly more difficult for them by matching their steps as he goes backwards, he feels like a wounded animal chased by a hunting party as they slowly corner him for the kill. He is running out of space before he steps into the thick wall of soldiers behind him, the cut on his arm is beginning to throb, the slice on his abdomen stings, and his thoughts cannot seem to move fast enough to find a way out of this situation.

He is losing, he realizes suddenly, there is_ no_ way out of this. There never was. Jane was right this was stacked against him from the beginning. It was stacked against _them. _There is no way out of this even if by some miracle he could win, they will not let them go. They will still be hostages, prisoners, a commodity to be used at their leisure. But he cannot just die, because that would be the forfeit of not only his own life but Jane's as well... and worse.

Suddenly his purpose, his goal is different, he was meant to die and in the end it was easier for him. Jane is strong, stronger than anyone, much stronger than him. She will find her way out or they will find her. Jane is important, even these people, enemies, they know that. Now it just up to him to give her something even resembling a fighting chance.

He attacks, no real preference for who will go down or who will take him down. He just swings toward the closest one. He gets what he wants taking the man by surprise so that he barely manages to block the sword in time. This time there is no jumping back or assessment of the situation he continues to attack the man who is barely managing to keep up from his onslaught the way Gunther was before he decided. He manages a couple of slices but can't do much more before something hits him so hard in the back of the head that he goes down.

He is suddenly on his knees having no memory of falling just the pain, it is a miracle that he still holds the blade in his hand at all, a kick to his shoulder and he is on his back disoriented. He isn't sure what is going to happen. He knows only that if this is it, he has failed. The words reverberate inside his head.

He has failed, he makes a half-hearted attempt to swing his sword as the flash of metal heads directly toward him, ready to end it all.

* * *

_Thank you for the sweet words guys, its super lovely to here from you even if its only a few words._

_I'm going to be trying my hand at NaNoWriMo (I encourage you to look it up if like writing its a wonderful organization), meaning that I'm trying to get to 50,000 for November, that's 1667 words a day. And its such a busy month! Including my birthday! But I am determined to succeed! Or at least get as much writing done as possible!_

_I'm hoping for lots of that to be Jane and Gunther related so I will hopefully have lots of content set up for you guys in the near future._

_As always please review! I really, really would love to hear your thoughts. _

_They will help fuel this long and arduous endeavor!_


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